Remembering the Funeral

Posted on November 7, 2010 by Margaret

Early this morning, taking advantage of the extra hour afforded by turning back the clocks, I spent some time thinking about Nate’s funeral. I read the blog post from a year ago, then asked God, “What do you want me to think about all this?”

His answer came in a millisecond. “Study My words, not yours.”

It’s always a relief when God answers definitively. On November 7 last year, I ended my blog with a quote from Isaiah 61, because it referenced a “spirit of heaviness” (KJV), which was what I was feeling then. Those verses were God’s answer on that day as to what I should be thinking, so I decided to meditate on that passage.

The words describe Jesus, who would “comfort all that mourn,” and having buried my husband that day, I needed comforting. Lying in bed behind a closed door that night, I asked God to shape my thoughts, and the phrases from Isaiah (see the end of this post) wrapped around me like the layers of a soothing quilt.

A year ago I didn’t study the verses or look into their Hebrew origins but simply took them at face value and accepted the comfort they gave. On a night when I might have tossed and turned until the wee hours, I fell right to sleep.

This morning, one year later, I decided to take a closer look at the Scripture using my Strong’s Concordance. What was it about those phrases that had brought me such comfort? Here are the meanings:

to bind up = to wrap firmly (like an Ace bandage that feels good on an injury)
to comfort = to feel sorry for (as God shared in my sorrow)
beauty for ashes = to remove despair and substitute brightness (transforming a weary face into a rested one)
oil of joy = to anoint with costly, perfumed oil (symbolizing fruitfulness to come)
garment of praise = to feel like singing again (a song God would supply)

In the year since Nate’s funeral, God has done all of those things in multiples, which makes me want to be part of the last phrase of Isaiah 61:3, “…that the Lord might be glorified.” In addition to God’s generous comfort on that night a year ago, he also placed an opportunity in front of me.

It was as if he said, “Would you be willing to show others how you leaned on Me in your time of need? Would you let people watch Scripture work for you? Would you testify to the profound things I’ll be teaching you? If you’re willing, this will bring Me glory.” I said “yes”, and sharing honestly throughout this year has brought me joy.

When I looked up today after studying Isaiah 61, it was 12:25. Even though I’d had an extra hour, I’d completely missed church!

But then again, not really…

“The Lord has anointed Me to… bind up the broken hearted… to comfort all that mourn… to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness… that the Lord might be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:1-3)

One Year Ago: Nate’s Exit to Heaven

Posted on November 3, 2010 by Margaret

People might judge our family to have too keen a focus on Nate’s death, but those of us left behind love to talk about him. Whether it’s the decision about his headstone, the reliving of a memory or a reason to be thankful, all of us are warmed in the process.

Today on the one year anniversary of Nate’s death, nearly 100% of the conversation has been about him, beginning with my children and then through emails, blog comments and snail mail from others. I am a fortunate woman to have so many caring friends, some I’ve known only through cyber space.

Many included comforting Scriptures in their messasges. Nearly all have said they were praying for our family, which I’m sure is the reason it’s been a day of blessing rather than an endurance contest of misery.

One thing mentioned by the kids today is their fresh focus on eternity. We all wonder what’s going on in that supernatural paradise. What is Nate doing? What is he seeing? Who is he talking to? Although we’ve known others who’ve been there for years, it wasn’t until Nate died that we began to seriously ponder the possibilities. Thinking about heaven seems to calm grief the way salve soothes a raw wound.

Hans and Katy’s friend Esther took the time to copy Psalm 121 into her email, the first one I opened this morning:

“[The Lord] who watches over you will not slumber; indeed, he who watches… will neither slumber nor sleep. He will watch over your life. The Lord will watch over your coming and going, both now and forevermore.”

These powerful words of promise were a positive way to start the morning. Part of their impact was in knowing they also applied to Nate. I believe the phrase “watching over your coming and going” includes our entering this world, and later exiting from it. God carefully watched over Nate’s life between his “coming” at conception and his “going” at death, right into eternity on November 3, 2009. As Nate arrived there, it became another “coming” monitored by the Lord. Cancer was Satan’s awful idea, but God used it as the vehicle to transport Nate into blissful eternity.

Today all of our children checked in with me. They’re a precious lot, and I don’t deserve the tender kindness they’ve shown. Although we couldn’t all be together, we were one in heart and mind, which greatly enriched this significant milestone.

As the day ended, I went back to Psalm 121, looking it up in Nate’s Bible. Although he didn’t often mark on the words of Scripture, he’d underlined the verses about the Lord watching over him and over his coming and going. Seeing his wavy pen lines on the page made me smile and experience a brief connection to my man.

I needn’t have worried about this important day. In place of tears, God gave us joy… all of us. Especially Nate.

“Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2)

One Year Ago: The Last 24 Hours

Posted on November 2, 2010 by Margaret

I look back at last year’s calendar with its description of our final day with Nate and shake my head. It was a dreadful yet holy day, a family time set apart like no other. What stands out in my memory?

First and foremost, Nate, struggling with pain but then responding well to the morphine drops, liquid relief from the agony of failing organs.

Hospice nurses, three in particular: Margarita teaching us how to use atropine to lessen the fluids in Nate’s system; Sonia showing us how to swab his mouth, moisten his lips, cool him with wet cloths and speak soothingly; Dee, spending the night on a stool near Nate, then tenderly bathing him on his last morning.

Singing, praying, reading Scripture.

Nate finally resting without pain, no knitted brow, no agitation, a relaxed hand as I held it.

Family love and gratitude expressed through tearful goodbyes.

The Holy Spirit’s presence with us in our dimly lit sanctuary, with Nate in his hospital bed as the centerpiece.

Nurse Dee’s comment, “During the night, he looked like he was getting younger and younger.”

Nate’s passion to hang on as long as he could, not leaving us until there was no other choice.

God and Nate deciding his life had reached its finish line and Nate’s walking into eternity with the Lord.

Our aching hearts struggling to believe what had happened, crying, praying, loving.

Watching a new nurse officially declare he was gone, released from his earthly body-bondage; listening to her words of comfort as she shared her Christian faith with me.

Disposing of Nate’s many drugs with Hospice, grateful he had no further need for them.

Watching the funeral home director and his assistant carry Nate out our front door, but being sure the real Nate had left two hours before that.

Realizing God had dramatically healed Nate of a very bad back and pancreatic cancer!

Although I’ve thought about these same details a million times during the last 12 months, tonight, for a change, I’m not crying. And I can’t explain it.

Tomorrow might be a different story, but for now, I can walk among the memories and be drawn to the blessings. During this year, God the Father has taught me so much about leaning on him that I’m continually aware of his nearness and can honestly say he’s my most precious Friend.

Today Louisa shared her thoughts about missing her papa, and we agreed there would be many future days when we’ll wish he was with us. Nothing, however, can spoil the unending togetherness we’ll have in eternity. The disconnect is only temporary.

Most likely we’ll never get the answer to her important question, “Why did he have to die when he did?” Instead, through his death, we’ve been given an opportunity to deepen our relationship with God. He had a reason for taking Nate when he did, a good one, and we can choose to trust him on that. Then, as trust increases, we’ll wonder “why” less and less.